Here’s a random collection of enlightenments that stuck me in the three nights and two-and-a-half days I spent in bed languishing from a fever. Enjoy.

1) You don’t realize how Cocker Spaniel healthy you usually are till you’re marsh-wiggle-miserable and, well, sick as a dog. We aught to be thanking and praising the Lord for our health all the time (which I’ve sadly neglected).

2) Things get really fuzzy when you’re sick—and when the fog lifts you’re like, Oooh, look, light! dust! and the bed-sheets are made of these tiny things called threads…

3) It’s true about ice-cream (or smoothies in my case) working wonders for the throat. Tea with honey is amazing too (and I practically lived on some amazing chicken soup from bone-broth my mum made) but as an exciting alternative fruit smoothies are the way to go! Throw some blueberries in the blender with some milk and yogurt and you get a throat-numbing, sweet-heaven dose of anti-oxidants and good bacteria.

4) You look better when you’re sick. At least to yourself. I don’t mean when you have a cold—not the bleary-eyed, red-nosed type of sick but the feverish sick. You’re brain-damaged. And you’re sweating so your skin takes on this glow and you look in the mirror and you see this mirage and you’re like, “Wow, I don’t look so bad for being sick.” (As soon as the fever left, though, I looked in the mirror and was like, nooo, nope, you look really bad.)

5) When you have a fever, taking your own temperature every 25 minutes is highly amusing. The drama of watching your own temperature rise just might be the only amusement your brain can take because…

6) Sadly, when you’re very sick movies scarcely work to take your mind (what’s left of it) off of your misery. I tried my usual thrillers to no avail. Except in the happier moments of medication they were all just too much for my battle-fraught brain to buffer. Like I said to my Dad when he asked what I wanted to watch: “Something happy. Not too complicated. No violence.” (In other words: Keep it simple, keep it safe.)

7) We love your spontaneous tea-refills and pillow-puffings. But hazard questions at your own peril. Because it will take 30 seconds to make up one’s mind to answer, another 30 to decide what to answer, and then another 30 to get it out from a fever-bashed vocabulary and a very, very, very sore throat.

8) Sick people listen up: just because you have nothing else to think about except when you’ll see your mummy next doesn’t mean she’s on temporary-leave and abandoning the home-front. Chances are she’s visited you in your sleep aaand if you checked the clock you’d discover that despite the fact that it feeels like it’s been hoursss since you’ve seen anybody’s face, anything exciting has happened, or even your temperature has gone up by even 0.1 degrees—it’s really only been minutes.

9) There are some great male nurses out there, and hats off to my dad and brothers for checking up on me and offering to do anything to make me feel better—but there’s nothing like a woman in a sick-room. Shout-out to my amazing Mom and nurse-of-a-little-sister.

10) One of the things my Mom prayed was that my time in bed would be “profitable.” That really struck me because usually the first thing we think of when we’re sick or insomniatic is that we (or that time) are somehow useless. But in a sermon I listened to I was reminded how whenever we feel “thirsty” or “hungry”—that’s God calling out to us to run to Him—and to drink of the Living Water that will satisfy. So while feverishness didn’t go very well with trying to pray, I was definitely reminded of how in all those quiet, in-between moments—the dead time in-between two appointments, that unexpected 2AM wakefulness—that’s a good time to pray. Meet with God: thank Him, praise Him, intercede for a friend, or just drink deeply and delight in the One who loves you most.

That was supposed to sound exultant, not ominous. I can’t wait till the month is over.

Trust me, I haven’t anything in particular against November–I’m just really excited it’s almost December.

Because when December strikes–I won’t have to nanowrimo anymore. My novel will be over–fini! compléter!

The finish line is in sight. THE END IS NEAR!!! Just 4,000 words remain to be written. I can do this thing.

A lot of people will be happy when I’m finished. My boyfriend will be glad I’m getting more sleep and rest. I’LL be happy I’m sleeping more too–and glad to not have to slime five pages a day with my tortured, sleepy sentences. My brothers will be happy, as well. Having both read the book they’ve started watching Pride & Prejudice (the 5+ hour version. the GOOD version) and are waiting for me–and when I’m free in the evening–to watch them together.

December brings the end of school, also. I might die before then–I have two weeks of straight exams, several lab reports, and a paper. But I’ll be super glad to kiss my classes good-bye.

December brings the end of the year. Two-thousand and thirteen here-we-come.

Oh, and speaking of the end–the Mayan’s calender ends, too–which just might mean the end of the world.

Or, if we interpret the calender my favorite way, The Hobbit IS FINALLY COMING TO THEATERS!!!

Well it’s that time of year: the invasion of the lady-bugs. They flit, they float, and flop and flock into our houses, our kitchens, our bedrooms, even our hearts. Any other insect inside the house in such quantities and we’d have pest-control in with bombs, sprays, and nets. But for the ladybug we are more patent, more tolerant, more hospitable. Maybe it’s their circular bodies, or their bright colors. Maybe we’ve grown inoculated from their eternal presence on stickers, birthday-cards, and tea-cups. But for some reason, when I see them by the hundreds in my home, I feel as though there was some battle raging in my heart–and they won. They’re lady-killers those lady-bugs.

On another note, here’s something I wrote on ladybugs fully two years ago:

I am a Ladybug-Saver.

Really. I take terrible pains with ladybugs.

My ficus plant, Frankie, needs some help so whenever I find a ladybug I bring it to him. I spend my days finding ladybugs and plopping them on Frankie.

Having a good dozen ladybugs in my bedroom, though, has its disadvantages…

For one there are dead ladybugs which I’ve stepped on on the floor, and a whole mass graveyard in my light fixture. This always leaves a sad, guilty feeling inside of me.

Secondly they tend to crawl over my windows and walls–which can be kind of interesting.

And thirdly, it means they’re forever on my mind and I’m forever saving them. I even turn off my lights to save them from being fried. The other day–while trying to get one to crawl on me (my more patient moments, other times I just scoop em up with paper)–I actually thought it gave me a kiss. But I realize now it was more likely pinching me.

Nasty little lady.

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As for ladybugs in general, this article long ago answered my questions about their strange invasions and mass deaths and I think you’ll find it interesting: http://www.dixieweb.com/ladybugs.htm (I know it’s talking about the south, but it’s the Asian ladybug we have here in the Northeast as well.)